


Feathers and Nettles (The Sibling Remix)

by La Reine Noire (lareinenoire)



Category: De vilde Svaner | The Wild Swans - Hans Christian Andersen, Die sechs Schwäne | The Six Swans, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lareinenoire/pseuds/La%20Reine%20Noire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He still dreamt of the cold wind against his skin, never more so than when the first chill of autumn hung in the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers and Nettles (The Sibling Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quillori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Nor Flesh Nor Fowl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1627592) by [Quillori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillori/pseuds/Quillori). 



> This is my first Remix and I'm thrilled to have finally had the chance to participate. The title refers to the original fairy tale _The Six Swans/The Wild Swans_ where the sister's task is to sew shirts for her brothers out of stinging nettles. Thanks to G. for beta-reading!

"It doesn't hurt, it just...it feels better if I move it."

 

He'd told the lie so many times before that it fell from his lips by rote. Of course it hurt. But it was not the sort of pain a poultice could heal.

 

Not that he'd tell the farmer that, or any other soul. Instead, as he blinked, the image of a pair of green eyes, strikingly like his own, branded themselves across his closed lids. _But why didn't you_ tell _me? I'd have left you as you were if I'd known that was what you wanted_. He'd told her the truth--there had never been room for lies between him and his sister, born barely a year apart and nigh inseparable until the curse tore him from her.

 

She'd saved them all, or so she'd thought. _You should have told me_.

 

The farmer was speaking again, and he scarcely heard his own response. Something placating, no doubt. He'd learnt that much in the years since returning to the village where he and his brothers had grown up.

 

His mother still lived in the village, though she could scarcely bear to look on him. His brothers had finally done right by her--or so she claimed, returning to the village, marrying good girls, and giving her a bevy of grandchildren--but he alone remained, the constant disappointment and reminder of a curse gone awry. He was sure she hadn't meant for it to happen as it did, but some part of him couldn't help but think she should have known better. _Some bargains are better left unmade_.

 

He had only been thirteen, his voice unbroken and his form still a child's. People in the village had often mistaken him for his sister and her for him. _That will never happen again_. Not now that his sister was a great lady clad in velvets and jewels and he was a broken man.

 

"I wonder if she'll be happy?" he asked himself aloud, and the farmer looked at him in puzzlement. He'd said something about gypsies and runaway daughters, but the only runaway daughter that mattered was Ellen, and he'd forgiven her for what she'd done in ignorance. _But she won't forgive herself_.

 

Though she wanted him to stay near her, he had left all the same, hoping his absence might help her forget. Nor did he begrudge his brothers their contentment--they'd all reached manhood before the curse struck, hadn't known how it felt to be trapped forever _between_ as he was. Between child and adult, between bird and human.

 

He still dreamt of the cold wind against his skin, never more so than when the first chill of autumn hung in the air.

 

"It's hard if people want different things," he heard himself say as the silence stretched out. "Or if they have different ideas of what's proper and normal."

 

If it hadn't been for the curse, his sister might never have left the village. She hadn't done so by choice--she'd never been adventurous like their father and brothers.

 

More to steer his own thoughts from Ellen than for any other reason, he began to speak of his mother. _A safer topic_. The farmer knew her, of course--everyone in the village knew his mother. She was a formidable woman, had always been, and the farmer was right that she'd always kept her six sons in line, however much she'd complained of them.

 

By then, the swans gathered by the lake had begun to stir. He could feel the ache deep within his bones as he heard their soft murmurs of farewell.

 

"I wonder where they go?" the farmer asked. It was his turn to glance over in surprise; he hadn't expected the farmer to think about such fanciful things.

 

He could have demurred, claimed he did not know. Instead he told the truth as he'd known it, as he'd told Ellen by the dying fire.

 

The first autumn had been the hardest, a bare few weeks after they'd been transformed, but while his brothers struggled with their larger, unwieldy bodies and wings almost too powerful to control, he'd soared high above the rest. He'd gloried in it, swooping and banking as he'd only ever dreamed, until his brothers finally caught up with him and they followed the rest of the flock. He hadn't looked back at the village, not once, though even as a swan he remembered the shock and dismay on his sister's face as they flew out of sight.

 

"People say," he began, almost smiling at the equivocation, "they fly beyond the mountains to live in jewelled palaces."

 

They'd indeed flown to such a place, though they'd lived in the gardens and peered in fascination at this strange new world. The sun had shone nearly every day, though the nights were chilly, and the people wore brightly coloured silks that glittered with gems. He wondered if he might steal just one to show Ellen, but his brothers--their normally adventurous spirits dampened by the curse--dissuaded him. "There are gardens with fountains and dances every night," he continued, remembering the water dancing in the sunlight and the bowers of heady roses, "and it is always summer."

 

The farmer laughed. "People say that, do they? In that case, it's a shame we can't go there too."

 

For half a second he could almost imagine himself back there again, breathe in the scent of mingled flowers and spices. Then he shook his head and the vision dissolved. "Perhaps people are lying. People do that."

 

Ellen had wept when he told her. _All I wanted was for you to come back. I gave no thought for what_ you _wanted_.

 

He knew he was speaking again, but could scarcely hear the words as they fell from his lips like stones into the water. His mother would have interrupted, as would his brothers, but the farmer just listened. If he kept his eyes on the lake, he could pretend Ellen was seated beside him, watching the swans and remembering.

 

Only when the farmer stood to return to his cottage did the _real_ truth spill from his mouth, the truth that had forever sundered him from his sister.

 

It wasn't her fault. They both knew that. But, as he stood by the lake, the wind catching in his feathers, he could not help but wish that Ellen had been less skilled, less persistent, less brave.

 

He would never tell her that, but he could see it in her eyes that she knew, and that she couldn't look at him without remembering that she'd condemned him to this for the rest of his life.

 

The swans beat their wings against the air and rose from the lake. In concert, his single wing began to flap as though it too might carry him south. He could have stilled it, but it seemed kinder to pretend, at least for a moment or two, before captivity opened his eyes as it always did. 

 

"I always hated her sewing, you know. All those shirts, like so many nets."

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really loved this story and had trouble figuring out how on earth I'd remix it at all, but _The Six Swans/The Wild Swans_ is one of my favourite fairy tales and I thought it might be interesting to explore this version of the youngest brother's relationship with his sister (who I've always admired as a character). The original story doesn't name any of the characters but I took the liberty of naming the sister.


End file.
